


box ghost

by Dawn_Khee



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Character death even if he's a ghost in the story, because origin story will have death involved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-03 09:49:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Khee/pseuds/Dawn_Khee
Summary: This is the Box Ghost's origin story.(I did not write this story; someone on discord asked me to put this up for them and well, here it is ^^)





	1. The Job

"Mr. Lawrence? You may come in now," the secretary said. I got up slowly, my back aching as I tried to remove my hunch, to no avail. Walking down the hallway, I noticed a young girl covered in blue flames walking past me. She waved, I waved back, before we crossed paths  
Then I sat down, twirling my thumbs as the older gentleman looked through some files. Then he sighs, removes his glasses, then gives me a look. "You . . . Didn't do a whole lot in your time alive, did you."  
"I was . . . Preoccupied, to be quite honest," I said. "I had an idea on how to make boxing up stuff easier, but it was-"

"Widely ignored?" He said this with slight intrigue  
"Somewhat. Despite me being well respected on the factory floor, I found myself struggling to get my idea out there to the world"  
He sighed in almost defeat. "I doubt that's the word for it, but regardless, I want to show you something."

The room seemed to shift, as the room's walls started melting until finally he's shown me a factory. "I believe this was your job, correct?"

"Yeah yeah, that's my old job. Packing up boxes of lead to send to New York"  
"Yes, I remember. You were the one that also loaded them onto the trucks . . . For nearly 12 hours a day."

"Yep!" I gave him my most winning smile  
"Well, that explains your constant . . . Hunch," he said. "Anyways, let's zoom out a bit." The floor seemed to disappear, as the factory shrank until only the city of Chicago remained. Then after that, we seemed to move a few blocks until . . . 

"Hey, I can see my apartment from here!"  
"Exactly where we are going," the old man replied


	2. Aspirations

"Huh, a bit of a crowd here," the old man said.

"Yep. My family, we've all moved here from NYC. And before that, Ireland"

"I see. Well, what's that small closet of a room back there? A workshop of sorts?"  
"Yeah. I had all these plans to streamline the process of packing boxes. Hard work, but it'll all be worth it someday"

"Ah, now I see it. It's quite . . . Elaborate, somehow."

"Yeah. A shame that it never gotten the attention it deserved"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that"  
The scene seemed to blur before my eyes as I realized we were not only capable of moving through space but time as well.


	3. Arson

"Oh, back at work? That's me, and those are my coworkers, we're all getting out of lunch break and going back to work! Just like any other day" "Yes, most of the days do seem to blend together where you're concerned, isn't it. Though I must confess that this isn't an ordinary day for you, if memory serves correctly"

"How so?" Then an unearthly glow came around us, as someone came in shouting about a fire. "Oh, that's why."

The scene unfolded from our point of view above the chaos. As the factory immediately started rushing towards the exits, stampeding each other and pushing everything aside. It was madness

And, still stuck inside the truck, lay me, buried in boxes with no way out. I could feel the fire coming closer as I tried pushing boxes out the way, one of them falling from the top of the truck to hit me in the head, causing me to fall as more boxes buried me

I couldn't see, I could barely breath, the truck interior turning into a hotbox as I was brought about to a sizzling end

I remembered all of this, the searing pain coming back to me in a flood, to the point where I desperately started to try and move boxes off of my past self

"These are merely illusions, recreations from your memory," the old man continued. "There is nothing you can do here that'll save you from what's come to pass."

"What do you mean?" "I mean they've already happened, and that we cannot change what happened. However, I do believe there's something you haven't exactly witnessed."

Then, the city shrunk below us, a blazing inferno in the setting sun. Time rewound itself until the fire shrank into a small patch. Then we zoomed in on said patch. "See this child? How he's kicked the lantern to scare a cow? He's the one responsible for what came to be known as the Chicago Fire"

"Really? Why I outta-" "There's more to it though," he says as time moved forward again, skipping past the carnage of the blaze only to reach my burning apartment. The kid was walking past, whistling to himself, as a piece of paper flew into his face.

"No way, that's _mine_! That's my idea!" "There was no way to confirm that because everybody tied to you and that paper burned away, including yourself and your family. A few weeks later he's had the opportunity to meet Henry Ford in NYC, and that's where the Assembly Line was soon invented."

As I slowly took in this information, I had to ask one more question. "If all this happened in the past, then what qualifies as 'now'?

At that, he hit fast forward, and we've followed the kid until he grew up, had his own kids, then grandkids, until a couple of generations went down the line as we followed this family until we reached Amityville Park

"This is the first ancestor of the arsonist," the old man said as he showed me a kid with white hair and glowing green eyes. "Now the question is, what are you gonna do about it?"


End file.
